Fall to Pieces
by allwaswell23
Summary: "'I know, I know,' is all I could say.  The truth is, I don't know if I know anything at the moment." A moment on the stairs.  The battle has been won and reality is about to hit …hard. Inspired by "Fall to Pieces" by Avril Lavigne.


A moment on the stairs. The battle has been won and reality is about to hit …hard. The moments following the end of the war. Ron in shock from the loss of his brother. Inspired by "Fall to Pieces" by Avril Lavigne.

'_**Today's the day, I pray that we make it through.**_

Make it through the fall, Make it through it all.

And I don't wanna fall to pieces, I just want to sit and stare at you. I don't want to talk about it. And I don't want a conversation, I just want to cry in front of you.'

"Hermione!" I turn frantically at the sound of my name and lock eyes with the man I was so desperately searching for. My eyes scan his body and I can clearly pinpoint every spec of him that is no longer in perfect condition. I can also tell that he is alive, and that's all I care about at the moment. In the aftermath of the battle we had gotten separated and since then my stomach sat on edge, ready to empty itself as I visualized Ron crying in some isolated corner of the castle, or perhaps pacing atop Gryffindor Tower. I push past the few people between us and we crash into each other's arms. I hear him gasp and choke as the tears begin to fall. He pulls me down to the ground where we stand and our bottoms smack onto the concrete steps.

"Hermione, please."

His words sound foreign. They're desperate and spoken in a tone I've never heard from Ron Weasley before. I'm not sure what he's asking for. Is it even a question or is he in such deep shock that he can only hope to spew crippled half-sentences. _Please? Please what? Please tell you this isn't real? Please don't let go of you? _My arm rests around his shaking shoulders, attempting to soothe him somehow. All around us people are rushing; speaking in hurried voices and climbing past us as if we don't exist. Or, perhaps they do acknowledge us but my tunnel vision for Ron prevents me from knowing it. Minutes tick by and my vision starts to clear a bit. Fresh tears force the dust and debris out of my eyes and, for the first time, I'm aware of our location. I had cried on these very steps three years ago over the boy I now hold in my arms.

For the briefest of moments I'm sure he's crying. He should be crying, right? He should explain what he's thinking or confess that he's lost his ability to think at all. Instead, his face ends up buried in his hands, his fingertips seizing and scratching at his hair. I'm watching him writhe as his emotional state tricks his body into thinking it's in physical pain. For a moment I'm convinced he's been hurt. I want to ask but I know it'd be a dumb question. It's as if his body and mind are suddenly unsure of how to coexist; breathing, standing, crying, celebrating. Ron simply didn't know what to do, how to function. I wrap my arms around him, trying to force him into a calmer state. His weight settles into me but I can still feel his muscles screaming as I confine them. My mind begins to go fuzzy. My body is screaming for food and sleep. I ignore it. The onset of exhaustion has weakened me but my fatigue is conquered by immense relief. The war is won. Ron and I are both alive and together and it's all I've ever wanted.

He's stopped moving, gone still in my arms as if he fell asleep and it's deeply unnerving. Being still reminds me of Fred and the thought makes me want to vomit what little sustenance may be left in my tiny stomach. I can even taste the bile in my mouth. I've expected Ron to fall to pieces any second and, as if reading my thoughts, he pulls up and holds my face in his hands. His eyes roam all over me, frantic and mad and I feel like this should be the moment his flood gates break. "Ron," my voice comes out cracked and tiny, "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." Looking in his gorgeous blue eyes causes mine to swell up and spill before I could think to stop them. Suddenly I'm feeling far too uncomfortable with his gaze on me, as if he can see every thought I'd ever had. I try to pull him back to me for another hug, to break his stare, but he resists.

"No. Please just let me look at you, Hermione."

"Okay," I managed, quite sure that I'd give him anything he could ask of me. He gawkes over my face in a way nobody ever has before. After a short eternity, he leans in and nuzzles his nose into my collar bone. "Are you…alright?" he asks into my skin; his question sounds steady and genuine and uncertain. I shake my head in tiny, short nods to let him know I'm physically unharmed. Without lifting his face, he pushes some hair from my shoulder and kisses a spot on my neck forcefully.

I think of his family and wonder if they are looking for him. "Ron, if you need me to…"

His voice was so tender it made my vision swim. "I c-can't just yet. I just have to s-sit here and just…just know you're real." His arms snake their way around my waist. I hold on to him, rubbing his back soothingly. He barely makes a sound until I hear the words escape his lips, "Fred, Fred."

Ron's body is suddenly assaulted by uncontrollable sobs. I half expect him to lean past me to dry heave the distress away from himself. "I know, I know," is all I could say. The truth is, I don't know if I know anything at the moment. I know the war is won but I know Ron's heart is broken and that knowledge overpowers any joy I might have felt at our victory.

Suddenly, miraculously, Ron lifts his head. His eyes are as red as his hair. He shakes himself from my grasp, stands, and viciously clears his throat. He shakes his head as if trying to compose his emotions. His filthy fingers rake through his red hair. I can't help but stare. I'm scared to death of anything he will do or say. I'm scared that he'll never speak again. I'm terrified of what he might say when he does.

I bring myself up to him and catch his hand, forcing him to a stop. He brings his hand to rest on my cheek. "You're okay." He states, reassuring himself. I nod and he pulls me into his arms once more and returns us to the cold, concrete steps again as the world continues to rush past us.


End file.
